They dwell remote from pomp and noise.
He loitering pass'd the vacant hour,
For Strawberries stoop'd, or pluck'd a Flower,
And snuff'd the Zephyrs as they play'd,
In wanton curves beneath the shade.
'Till having every sweet pursued,
That leisure finds in solitude,
Resolving now to seek Mankind,
And new delights in converse find,
He left the woods, he cross'd the plain,